A heady fragrance came off of Cole’s crotch, filling the older man’s nostrils and lungs with the potent scent of the sweaty jock. Coach Charger knew it well. It was the scent of excellence. Of perseverance. Of championship. When a young man pushes himself just right, he leaves a pheromonal trail of his accomplishment, starting from his loins and cascading through the air. He was mere inches from the source, driving the silver daddy wild. Cole’s cock shot up in his jock as Coach Charger’s warm, smooth lips made contact with his balls. The breath that he released tickled the hairs, exciting him from his taint to the tip. Cole watched with wide eyes, dying to see what his coach would do next. And then, with a hungry, ravenous approach, the bearded man took his balls in his mouth and began to lap at them, sucking them into his mouth as if he were trying to drink up every drop of his sweat. Cole loved every second of it. He watched as the coach looked up at him, as if waiting for Cole to protest, pleased to see the young man’s mouth fall open with pleasure and his eyes beginning for more. Charger took the boy’s cock out of his jockstrap, stroking it in his hand before taking it all in his mouth. It was as musky and sweaty as his balls, but somehow all the more delicious. Beads of precum began to appear on the tip, immediately sucked down by the older man.
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